


The (Still A) Bachelor

by Pingoodle (ThatAloneOne)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe – The Bachelor Fusion, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 11:44:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17446331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatAloneOne/pseuds/Pingoodle
Summary: Mary signed up to be on the Bachelor just because. It was a thing she did because she wanted to, and because she thought nothing would come of it. Like talking to someone on the internet, and they turned out to be a creepy old man. Or maybe winning the lottery.Personally, she thought being considered eligible for the bachelor was more like meeting a creeper and less like winning a lottery.





	The (Still A) Bachelor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LMoriarty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LMoriarty/gifts).



> I used to do prompt-offs with [LMoriarty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LMoriarty/pseuds/LMoriarty) and this prompt was about the Bachelor. I'm sure you understand, if you're here, why it turned out like it did. [Here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8276806) is her take on this, a Carmilla fic. 
> 
> I figured since this is posted on Tumblr, the internet already has this and it may as well properly have it.

Mary signed up to be on the Bachelor just because. It was a thing she did because she wanted to, and because she thought nothing would come of it. Like talking to someone on the internet, and they turned out to be a creepy old man. Or maybe winning the lottery.

Personally, she thought being considered eligible for the bachelor was more like meeting a creeper and less like winning a lottery.

It almost hadn’t seemed real, until they’d poked, prodded, and screen tested. Then it felt  _too_  real, but she’d already signed all the waivers, and really Mary wasn’t the kind of person that backed out of things. Even if the thing was being on the bachelor.

She blew a couple thousand off her obnoxious ex-girlfriend’s apology account on designer clothes, and then she was off

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m too bi for this,” Mary said, maybe out loud, the first morning she woke up in the mansion. There were girls  _everywhere_ , in varying states of undress. It was like locker room, level millionaire. She couldn't escape. She couldn't let it be known that she needed to escape. After all, the Bachelor was heteronormative glory in its prime.

So instead of thinking about all the pretty girls around her, Mary took to wandering. The mansion itself was, tragically, hip. Everything glistened aggressively with either newness, style, or artwork so abstract it looked more like the artist had broken down in messy tears instead of completing the second stage of their art — making it look like something.

When the producers had said they’d revamped the mansion, Mary had thought that they’d  _finally_  added a gym, but no, they’d scaled up the only slightly ritzy insides to something even a cheesy cracker sandwich would turn its nose up at. And still, no gym. Oh, well. It wasn’t like Mary was going to visit, anyway. She’d been gifted with a supernatural metabolism and she was planning to take advantage of it. Food was free, and there was lots of it.

 

* * *

The group dates were everything of the disaster Mary had seen on TV. Todd, her possible future soulmate, was at best, obtuse, and at worst, catatonic. He’d immediately pick one girl over another, and the other would be left clawing for whatever scraps of attention he’d be willing to part with.

Strangely enough, on her date, Mary was the one who got the attention. Todd fawned all over her, and then all over the wine, and then all over her again. Mary stuttered at the attention at first, but by the end of the date and the several retakes the team needed, she’d gotten used to it. Todd gave affection away like most normal people gave away used socks — often, in vaguely recognizable pairs, and because he was broken inside. Compliments poured out, stiff and two-worded. Mary complimented him back, ignoring the seething girl behind her.

 

* * *

The first rose ceremony was… interesting. Up close, Todd’s bouquet looked even smaller than it did on TV. So many girls would be cut. It was ridiculous. They’d all spent thousands to get on this show, and they’d have to say goodbye after one date. There was love at first sight, and there was whatever sorting process that happened here. It, unlike love, was based purely on the cup size of the beholder.

Mary had D’s, so she wasn’t very worried.

Lanie, the frankly frightening oddity of the group, was the first to be offered a rose. Her hair was as it always was — wavy, fluffed, and angled sharply enough along her jawline that both looked liable to kill. Despite all that, though, she looked like she could also kill you with cuteness. Possibly evil cuteness, but cuteness nonetheless.

“You know,” she said, almost casually. Mary didn’t know how she wasn’t shaking. She was the first girl chosen, the first to be guaranteed a place in the next round. “I’d really rather not.”

“What,” said Todd.

“What,” said Mary.

Lanie grinned. “Thanks for the opportunity, but, after a week on the set, I’ve decided that men really aren’t my thing.”

“What,” said Todd again, with somehow less feeling. He seemed to be staring with the trolley of alcohol with the same amount of lust as the contestants.

“Cut!” said the cameraman, the first time Mary had heard him speak. From the look on his sour, pinched face, she got the feeling it wouldn’t be the last. “You can’t say that?”

“I don’t think  _you_  are supposed to say anything,” Mary said. “It’s a reality show. Let reality happen.”

“Nice,” said Lanie, which was kind of her. She seemed very pleased with herself, like a panther that had eaten a Mrs. Klaus. It was an oddly specific image, but it worked.

“What,” said Todd again, but this time he was looking at Mary. Mary flushed. She didn’t miss all the other cameras swinging her way. Awkwardly, she waved, then realized she was breaking the fourth wall, then flushed an even deeper red.

“So I’ll be going,” Lanie announced, and went, her black cocktail dress spinning out with just enough poof to give her a dramatic exit.

“I think I need a minute,” said Todd faintly, which was the longest sentence she’d ever heard him speak.

“Cut,” the cameraman said, and this time, Mary didn’t complain.

 

* * *

Lanie had left rainbow bracelets  _everywhere_ , which the producers were all trying frantically to clean up. They seemed to think that the show was Unvarnished Heterosexuality™. Mary hated to break it to them, but she’d seen more than the expected amount of ‘just practicing for Todd!’ kisses than could be passed off as actual ‘just practicing for Todd!’.

Without the internet or even a TV, Mary was forced to wander around, blindly seeking stimuli. When it got to the point that she’d flushed the toilet three times just to hear the gurgling noise, she realized she probably needed human companionship.

The first humans she found were… a little  _too_  companionable. She left them to it, resisting the urge to go back to the bathroom and stick her head in the toilet just to get it all over with.

Nellie was in one of the smaller sitting rooms. wearing one of Lanie’s rainbow bracelets and absently spinning it around her wrist as she stared at the wall. Or at least, Mary hoped she was staring at the wall, because a couple feet right was a piece of artwork that looked more like a murder scene that the artist had hung vertical to disguise it being an actual murder scene. It was a rug, with garbage on it, and a lot of red paint. She  _hoped_  it was red paint.

Mary had always scoffed at her mother’s rants about how art was no longer truly art, but finally, she understood. This was not art. This was-

“Looks almost as bad as Todd, doesn’t it?”

Mary had already checked for cameras, but even so, she thought that was a bit much. “Todd is lot more orange than this carpet. I think he needs to chill on the spray tans.”

Nellie cackled, so Mary sat down. Everything about her fellow contestant seemed amazing — her dark hair, bright blue at the tips. Her lips… her  _smile_. Mary didn’t know if Nellie was the most extraordinarily attractive person she had ever met, of if being around Todd and the ugly paintings so much was affecting her perception of reality.

“Very true.” She offered a hand, her nails long and acrylic and deadly looking. “Nellie.”

“Mary Antonio,” Mary said, and shook her hand. It was warm, dry, and not as huge as Todd’s massive paw. “Is it just the one name? Like Spock?”

“Except I’m smarter.”

“Nice.”

There was a lull. The both of them stared at the artwork, neither wanting to admit it. A few rooms over, producers prodded a larger group of girls back into talking about Todd.

“Has he kissed you yet?” Nellie asked. Her eyes, as blue as her hair, were sharp behind her glasses.

“We’ve been on one date!” Mary protested. “Also, yes.”

“He kisses like a dying rodent.”

“I  _know_. All teeth and his lips taste…”

“Dead.”

“You said it, not me.”

 

* * *

The weeks blurred. Dates. Kissing Todd ( _like kissing a dead rodent_ , Nellie always whispered in her mind.) Dates, except in places where it was hashtag-exotic and way too hot for poor northern Canadian Mary. It felt like an adventure, except that Mary was relatively sure that adventures were supposed to include more excitement and less alcohol.

To be honest, her favourite moments were the moments when the girls all got to stay together, crammed into hotel rooms, or back at the mansion. Nellie always sought her out, and they’d sit for hours telling each other stories, sentence by sentence. When the cameras and alcohol trays were around, they tended to be cutesy and zany and about hot men that’s names started with T.

When they were alone, the stories tended to be gay. Often, Mary would honour Lanie’s sacrifice by giving her a nice girlfriend, or maybe subtracting the brother she’d complained about when she was still around.

Mary liked the stories they told each other when they were alone better, and from what she could tell, Nellie did too. It was so rare to get time off camera, especially with the pool shrinking. More and more, Mary and Nellie were up against each other, battling it out for Todd’s affections. The cameras loved the tension between them, though Mary refused to let it ruin their friendship. In return, Nellie refused to remove her rainbow bracelet, no matter how much the producers attempted to pry it from her wrist.

It felt like a sign. Technically, it was a sign, but Mary felt like it was a sign for  _her_. All she hoped is that she was reading it right.

 

* * *

The last two contestants were Nellie and Mary, to her surprise. Rose, the third-to-last option, had always seemed like a more reasonable option to Mary. Rose was blonder, bolder, and breastier than Mary. To each their own. In the end. Rose had thrown a nasty fit when Todd had jilted her. Mary’s favourite part had been the bit about how her name deserved her the prize.

More dates passed, including a night in the fantasy suite. Mary had taken one step into the bedroom, dropped down on the bed, and determinedly feigned sleep. It had only taken Todd about five minutes to give up. Also, he snored, which was  _not_  Mary’s favourite trait in a bedmate.

And then, before Mary could really comprehend, it was the final rose ceremony. The make-or-break of her relationship with the world’s current most eligible bachelor.

Todd stood between them for a moment, letting the cameras eat up every inch of his tall, muscle bound frame. Mary sweated beneath her floor-length dress, wishing she’d had the opportunity to pick something shorter.

Then, Todd knelt before her,  _her_ , not Nellie. He offered her a single, bright red rose. The last red rose. “Mary,” he said, his voice gruff and gravelled and, Mary realized with a sinking horror,  _annoying_. “Will you marry me? Mary?”

Mary took the rose from his hands, numb with shock. She hadn’t come here for marriage, or engagement, or the month-long alcohol fuelled ‘engagement’ that all bachelor contestants participated in, in lieu of an actual engagement.

Nellie sighed, quietly, the only other sound in the stifling room. Mary’s dress tickled at her toes, the longest one she’d worn yet. She felt matronly. Ordinary. Someone fit to marry.

Todd, at her feet _, didn’t_.

So, Mary spun, the rose still clutched tight in her hand. She too, knelt, not really caring that her butt was displayed prominently in Todd’s face. “Nellie,” she said, “will you marry me?”

“Oh my god,” said Nellie, and then, “Yes!”

“What,” said Todd. He still didn’t have a grip on displaying his emotions.

“CUT!” screamed the head cameraman, but everyone else was too busy getting closeups of Mary and Nellie’s engagement kiss.

 

* * *

Mary’s season of the bachelor premiered as usual, mostly because they didn’t have enough time or money to reshoot. Every day, on her walk to pick up her and her fiancée’s mail, she chucked a couple threatening junk letters from the Bachelor’s producer team in the recycling.

She’d signed up to fall in love. She had.

 

* * *

Lanie became a meme. Sales of rubber rainbow bracelets skyrocketed.

 

* * *

Unlike about ninety percent of couples that met on the Bachelor, Nellie and Mary got married.

 

* * *

Happily married.

 

* * *

And stayed that way.

 

* * *

So there, fifty percent of the population of America. Or at least, that’s what Mary was guessing due to the volume of hate mail they’d received. Nellie and Mary bought a wood burning stove and stayed warm through the Canadian winter on the hate mail alone.

 

* * *

“I love you,” Mary said, her eyes limpid pools of tears and hope.

“Oh my god,” said Nellie, and she and her wife broke down into hysterical laughter, barely able to see the TV screen. The angle changed, revealing an uncomfortable looking Todd. “Why are we watching this?”

The angle changed one last time, to a younger Nellie sulking at a side table.

“Because I love you,” the real Mary said, once she could breathe again. “And the odds of this getting reruns are about the same odds as us winning the lottery. So stay still, and watch us get engaged again or I’ll divorce you."

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr and dreamwidth as writerproblem193!


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